


Those Who Fight

by medievalfantasyqueen



Series: SongXiao CNY 2021 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: 2021 SongXiao Chinese New Year Event (Módào Zǔshī), Avalanche FFVII, Crossover, Cyberpunk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Final Fantasy VII Crossover, Final Fantasy VII Universe, Found Family, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of bombing, Midgar (Compilation of FFVII), Shinra Company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medievalfantasyqueen/pseuds/medievalfantasyqueen
Summary: Choosing a side in any fight is hard but not leaning towards either in one is harder.Labelled rebels living in one of the sector slums in Midgar, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen have grand visions they seek by forging alliances with those who fight.But everyone has something unique that they are fighting for.
Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén
Series: SongXiao CNY 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157357
Kudos: 4





	Those Who Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I scribbled this down after four hours of FF7R one fine day, so I hope it is a decent read of the crossover no one asked for. ^_^
> 
> Title is taken from a FF7 OST track of the same name.

**THOSE WHO FIGHT**

“WHEN YOU’RE on the run, you live a life of irony,” Song Lan explains, his voice husky and slightly muffled as he takes breaks to draw in from his cigarette and let out a long puff of smoke. “You think you cannot make choices anymore, but never are you making choices than you are now.”

“Hmm,” Xiao Xingchen nods along as he listens, staring down at his own glowing cigarette. “You’re not making sense again.”

“Why not,” Song Lan hums as he leans back and closes his eyes, sighing deeply. “It’s a little bit exciting, you must admit that.”

“But still, Zichen,” Xingchen says softly, “they will not stop until they have us.” He moves a little to find a comfortable spot on top of the pile of old roof tiles they are resting on, stifling a sneeze as dust tickles his nose.

“Easy,” Song Lan replies, turning to look at him with a cocked brow. “We will not let them.”

Xingchen watches as the other man continues to smoke, the sweat glistening on his toned arms and the light fabric of his singlet clinging to his chest, feeling his heart flutter at the sight of the muscles and his face burning red when he feels Song Lan’s eyes on him again. The skies around them were turning a bright orange as the sun begins to finally set, and the faint echoes of children playing hangs in the air like a ghost. Just across from them where they are sitting by a half-tattered poster of President Shinra staring down at the populace were the remnants of somebody’s attempt to grow flowers, evident only by the sad brownish-grey flakes, fluttering in the wind. Xingchen felt his heart clench as he forced himself to think just how different everything would be if the grass were actually as green as he had been asked to imagine.

“Midgar will see flowers one day soon,” Song Lan says suddenly, breaking Xingchen out of his silent lament. “That these flowers actually bloomed before dying is evidence enough. Our work will pay off soon.”

“I suppose,” Xingchen’s voice trails off as a gust of wind picks up the grey flakes, sending them flying in a circle in the air before blowing them out of sight. The skies are now a darker red and the laughter of the children is fading away, and Xingchen watches as Song Lan takes a strip of cloth from his pocket and wraps it around the scabbed wound on his left wrist.

“Watch your finger,” Song Lan says suddenly as he bats at his hand with his right hand. “What are you so distracted by?”

“Oh?” Xingchen blinks as he realises his cigarette has burned down to a stump, just as it falls from his hand. It takes him a moment further to notice the reddish mark on the side of his finger and he winces as he touches it. “Well, this is nothing compared to the pain the planet is in.”

Song Lan stares at him and scoffs. “Xingchen? Really? You’re ridiculous.”

“Why?” Xingchen asks. “Isn’t it what they say? That the planet is being bled dry and all of that?”

Song Lan just shakes his head and laughs. “Look, we are doing this without swinging too much on either side. They’re both equally stupid if you ask me.”

“Zichen!”

“What?” Song Lan asks, tossing his cigarette away and leaning back, resting his head against his hands. “Whatever happened to not wanting to play by doctrine?”

“Sssh, Zichen!” Xingchen’s eyes widen as panic grips his chest, his heart beginning to race. “What if they hear us?”

“Who?” Song Lan asks, sitting up and pulling down his hair down from its bun. “Shinra? Avalance? That cat down there?”

“Zichen…”

“No, I mean it,” Song Lan repeats, his voice cracking a little. “Who are you afraid of? We’re in the slums, Xingchen, not anywhere near any of those blasted reactors. They can’t hear us here.”

“I know,” Xingchen exhales, moving closer to Song Lan and letting his hand creep towards the other’s man’s, smiling as he feels their fingers intertwine. “But still, I cannot help but think what if… one of those missions, any of them, is… is…” Xingchen stops, the words clinging onto his throat but he dares not say anything out loud.

The air around them is absolutely still, and there is a darkness that comfortably falls over the slums as people and animals fall into the arms of sleep, which is never the case in the city where the bright white lights are perpetually on. He closes his eyes, memorising every moment he is spending with Song Lan now, the sound his voice and his laughter, the warmth of his body as he rests his head on Xingchen’s shoulder, the softness of his hair…

Xingchen never wants any of this to be gone.

He closes his eyes, pushing away the pieces of old nightmares that wedge themselves in the recesses of his mind, of a bomb going off perhaps a little too early, or a blade being thrust into a chest before he could stop it, of hands slipping and someone falling away into the depths of the planet’s core…

He tightens his grip on Song Lan’s hand, prompting the other man to look up at him.

“Xingchen?” Song Lan asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It is a blatant lie and Xingchen knows that Song Lan knows too but is relieved that Song Lan says nothing about it.

“Xingchen, there is no need to fear,” Song Lan says instead, his voice soft, accompanying a kiss to Xingchen’s cheek. “I mean, there are things we will fear all the time, no matter what happens, no matter who sits up there. There will always be a new throne, and even if there is a good President or leader or whatever you call them, there will be something else to fear. Perhaps a new threat. Perhaps a new terrorist group, perhaps a new Shinra. Or it could be a plague or a war, there will always be something. But that is not what we are doing, Xingchen. We had a plan, Avalanche gives us something to work with and we are doing our best and we’ll see what happens.”

“We’re leaving it to chance, then?” Xingchen chuckles dryly. “Sounds promising.”

“See, we’ll never know the future until it arrives, but we know the present,” Song Lan says, drawing circles on Xingchen’s palm with his thumb. “We have the means to try and change the present.”

“Whether or not it changes, we will not stop.” Xingchen smiles, feeling a little hollow inside, but also strangely warm next to Song Lan. “Besides, we don’t have anything to lose, do we?”

“Nothing to lose?!” Song Lan gasps before bursting into a fit of coughing.

“Zichen!” Xingchen quickly pats down his back and pushes hair from Song Lan’s face. “Are you all right?”

“Mmm mm,” Song Lan nods. “No, I’m fine. Nothing to lose? Xingchen, what do you mean nothing to lose?”

Suddenly taken aback, Xingchen opens his mouth a few times before closing it back, struggling for words as the quite fog around the slum parts to reveal small specks of white light – the city that never sleeps, kept alive and kept running by the sun lamps.

A waste of precious energy, draining mako away from the life it is supposed to maintain, the green grass and flowers it is meant to support, from the grappling hands of the people of Midgar who may be leading far more comfortable lives than they were now. It was theft of life disguised as support.

Bullshit.

A sudden wave of rage passes through Xingchen and he lets out a long sigh. “No, not nothing to lose. I mean, look. Look at that,” he points in the direction of the specks. “That is what we are fighting, and I know we will win and we will live to see the fruits of our actions. I will not let us die.”

Song Lan suddenly sits up and stares at him, his mouth slightly agape and eyes unblinking. He wets his lips with his tongue and traces Xingchen’s cheekbones with his thumb before leaning forward and pressing kisses to his eyes, nose and then his lips, nipping lightly before pulling away. “So that’s what’s been bothering you,” he says after pulling Xingchen closer to him and playing with his hair. “I understand.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t fear it.”

“I do,” Song Lan gulps, his voice cracking again. “I do, every day we do something new, I am scared we will never come out again. But look, we are here. And we will be here again after our next mission, and the one after that and the one after that. I promise.”

“As long as we are together, I guess,” Xingchen smiles as leans on Song Lan’s shoulder and looks up at his soft brown eyes. “We will do all of everything together.”

“Mmm,” Song Lan nods. “Of course, family should always stick together, through thick or thin, no?”

_Family._

What a strange word, such a small word, and yet with such weight. Xingchen feels his eyes stinging as he allows himself to stupidly imagine a future with just him and Song Lan, and oh, that little flower girl who always happens to be around just when they think they are alone. A-Qing, of course, there would be no them without A-Qing. A family, complete and happy, in some faraway little cottage with perhaps a puppy or a kitten, with not a care in the world, no worries about bombs or reactors or Shinra.

Just them, the three of them, and the green grass blooming around, and flowers greeting them every morning.

How… _nice._

“Our family,” Xingchen states suddenly, letting a tear roll down his cheek before wiping it away. “You, me, and A-Qing. Always happy, hmm? I guess.”

“That is what we are doing all of this for, no?”

“Wasn’t it for the planet?”

“What use is a planet if no one lives in it?”

“Well…”

“Everyone has a reason for doing what they do,” Song Lan says. “Even Shinra has a reason, no don’t look at me like that. Avalanche has theirs. And we have ours.”

“For our family, and for all the families.” Xingchen smiles at him.

“Of course,” Song Lan smiles before pushing Xingchen down on his back with his hand, pressing his lips to his and gasping when he feels Xingchen’s tongue searching for his own, the other man’s soft hands cradling his back and Song Lan smiles as soft moans erupt in between their sighs and they allow themselves to let the world fall away for the night.

🌣 🌣 🌣


End file.
